


i've got the music in me

by thunderylee



Category: NewS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Autism Spectrum Character, Awkward Sex, M/M, Polyamory, Wishful Thinking, discussion of anxiety and depression, mental health treatment, this was very hard to write, unconventional romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 09:12:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18465919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Tegoshi thinks that whoever came up with the concept of hearing the same music your soulmate is listening to had been under the impression that eventually they would do somethingelsewith their lives.





	i've got the music in me

**Author's Note:**

> the original prompt was sth like "soulmate au where the song your soulmate is listening to gets stuck in your head until they finish listening to it" and my brain immediately went "but what if they never stop???"

Tegoshi Yuuya, for all intents and purposes, hates music.

In another life, he might have enjoyed it, singing along with his favorite artists and maybe even creating his own songs. With his charisma and stunningly good looks, he could have easily become an idol, performing day after day for hoards of screaming fans who enjoyed music as much as he did.

Instead, music is a firm reminder that he’s going to be alone forever, because he’s thirty-one years old and he hasn’t yet found his soulmate.

It’s not like his soulmate doesn’t exist. Tegoshi is well aware that they do. He’s forcibly reminded every day, when he’s treated to whatever album his soulmate has on loop, an unwanted soundtrack in the background of Tegoshi’s own existence. Whoever they are, they are constantly listening to music, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

His soulmate eats, sleeps, and breathes music.

Very rarely, they will watch movies or other videos that give Tegoshi a brief interlude of quiet only to have it abruptly smashed with whatever song plays in the background of a scene. It could be the suspenseful part of a horror flick, or the cheesy part of a romcom. He used to entertain himself by trying to figure out what movie it was by the film score alone, but that was short-lived.

Tegoshi doesn’t like movies very much either. Anything involving musical sounds outside of his own head isn’t very enjoyable, as it clashes with everything that’s playing inside it.

The concept of silence for longer than a few minutes is foreign to him. At school, while sleeping, while working, even at his dad’s funeral a few years ago, it’s there in the back of his mind. As much as he has tried to make it stop, he couldn’t find a way. It’s impossible. He’s simply wired to share the musical frequency of a complete stranger’s brain like it’s a two-way radio that’s always on.

That’s how soulmates worked, he kept hearing from his mom, his doctor, even his professor in university when he thought that studying psychology might help him learn how to turn it _off_.

Tegoshi thinks that whoever came up with the concept of hearing the same music your soulmate is listening to had been under the impression that eventually they would do something _else_ with their lives. Tegoshi’s not that lucky. Everyone he’s talked to, everyone he’s ever met in fact, has some kind of romantic story about how they had fallen in love through the music in their head and somehow managed to find each other.

All Tegoshi has managed to find is a lot of resentment. Allegedly, he’s supposed to feel a pull toward his soulmate through their neural connection, but he doesn’t feel anything but annoyance. He’s always thought that this was some kind of punishment for something he did in a past life. How is he supposed to fall in love with someone who invokes such negative emotions within him?

At this point, when he _does_ finally meet his soulmate, the first thing he’s going to do is rip out their earbuds and enjoy peace for the first time in his life.

“They’ve been listening to Childish Gambino for _three straight days_ ,” Tegoshi whines to his friends. “I don’t even _know_ English and I can recite the entire album by now.”

Koyama and Massu exchange a Look. Tegoshi rolls his eyes, used to the pair of them communicating silently about him, even though they both swear up and down that telepathy isn’t a side effect of being soulmates. They just _get_ each other.

“Need a distraction?” Koyama asks, eyebrows waggling, and now Massu is the one rolling his eyes for as long as it takes Koyama to pull him into the bedroom with Tegoshi.

If nothing else, Childish Gambino serves as appropriate sex music.

*

By day, Tegoshi designs video games. After dropping out of university, he’d taken “do what you love” literally and gotten into coding. At night, he enjoys the fruits of his labor, playing MMORPGs with the BGM muted and screaming into a headset at other players. When he was younger, he used to play soccer competitively and go out drinking with friends, but as he’s gotten older he’s more content to just stay at home and hang out with his poodle, Emma.

It doesn’t count as “going out” if he just sits around Koyama and Massu’s apartment too, which only happens every other weekend or so. As much as he adores being with them, he works sixty hours a week and doesn’t have enough leftover energy to do more than take care of his dog and navigate a virtual world from his couch. While Koyama’s happy to drive the short distance to Tegoshi’s and spoil him, it defeats the purpose of “downtime.” It’s only relaxing if there’s not another person there to distract him.

Some might find this lifestyle isolating, but Tegoshi doesn’t think so. He has a rather active online presence, with a good number of gaming friends and others he’s interacted with over the years on various mediums. He knows people in the U.S., Australia, Europe, even Africa. The most senior employee on his company’s global team doesn’t have as much experience with other cultures as Tegoshi does.

The best part is that he can shut it off whenever he wants. Unlike the music in his head.

He’s only found one of his gaming friends in real life, and not because he was searching for them. Since they all use aliases online, he didn’t make the connection until Koyama had mentioned that he’d _finally_ gotten his neighbor to talk to him by asking if he’d heard of the game Tegoshi had currently been gushing about. Well, he didn’t exactly _talk_ —he had nodded excitedly and scribbled down his screen name for Koyama to give Tegoshi, then retreated through his door with an awkward bow of his head.

Tegoshi had laughed for hours upon learning who it was, because they’d been gaming together for _years_ purely due to the fact that they were always online at the same time. Convenience fosters the best friendships, as they started chatting on Discord and eventually branched out into other social mediums, sharing their lives outside of gaming. It turned out that this guy, whose real name is Shige, was born the same year as Tegoshi and just as much of a homebody.

He’s also autistic.

Tegoshi remembers being unfazed when he’d learned that bit of information—the online world _thrives_ with people who don’t fit into society’s narrow concept of “normal.” Tegoshi’s not that normal himself. The only difference between Shige and everyone else he has gamed with was that Shige didn’t use a headset to talk to anyone, preferring to type in their chat window instead. It turns out that was because he’s incredibly sensitive to sounds and partially nonverbal.

Koyama had been _thrilled_ to hear that his neighbor didn’t actually hate him, though his continued attempts to be social were still thwarted by quick interactions and hasty retreats. You’d think that someone who has spent most of his life working with special needs children would easily befriend his autistic neighbor, but Shige had told Tegoshi that Koyama simply overwhelmed him and asked that Koyama please not approach him anymore.

Koyama had been heartbroken by that request, but he’d started keeping his distance, and after a while Shige would wave at him when they ran into each other at the mailbox instead of cringe and run away. It wasn’t the neighborly relationship Koyama had wanted, but he inevitably accepted that it was the best he was going to get.

It’s been a few years since then, and Shige doesn’t play games much anymore, but they still follow each other on social media and Tegoshi’s consistently amazed at how _involved_ Shige seems to be in this world despite not functioning very well in it. He’s an activist, a blogger, and a published author, well respected in various online circles—including the gaming community after he'd written a book about a virtual reality where disabled kids could participate in the world without restrictions. 

“Everything is just _too much_ for me,” he had written in one of his early blog posts. “I want to talk to people, want to enjoy things that other people find fun, but it’s just too much. The lights are too bright, or they flicker in a way only I can see. The noises are too loud and repetitive. The smells are too strong, movements too sudden, and god forbid someone accidentally touches me. I can’t control my environment outside of my own four walls, so I don’t leave them unless I absolutely have to.”

Tegoshi used to feel sorry for him, but there’s not much to pity. Shige has a good career as a computer programmer for one of the top tech companies in Japan. He works from home and communicates through emails. He has his groceries delivered and enjoys cooking—more than once, he’s brought Koyama and Massu leftovers with no words and a note with a smiley face on it. He seems to be living his best life despite his limitations.

Most of all, he doesn’t hear any music in his head. Whether it’s an offset of the autism, or his soulmate simply doesn’t listen to music, Tegoshi’s jealous. Koyama figures the gods know what they’re doing, because random appearances of noises in an autistic person’s mind would be actual torture.

Tegoshi liked to argue that it was torture for _him_ , at least until Koyama pointed out that he hasn’t yet clawed out his brain. At the most, it’s an inconvenience to Tegoshi, one that he’s begrudgingly gotten used to after a lifetime of having someone else’s music choices running through his head. It doesn’t cause him pain or debilitate him in any way—it’s just really, really annoying.

One would think that the connection between soulmates would be pleasant and meaningful, _and yet_.

“It’s not like I could have a proper relationship anyway,” Shige writes on the topic. “Maybe if they were okay with online dating, or at the very least communicating in writing, but there’s still the matter of physical intimacy. While I want to be close to the person I love, there are so many sensory factors that hinder that. Unless my soulmate is willing to adhere to every single one of my idiosyncrasies, it’s more comfortable for me to be alone.”

He’s so honest and _real_ in his blog posts that Tegoshi feels like he knows Shige better than Koyama. It’s a one-sided friendship, since Tegoshi doesn’t do much on his social media accounts except bitch about video games (designed by other people) and flail over the World Cup, but Tegoshi’s okay with that. He already has Koyama and Massu, which is the most effort he wants to make for other people until his soulmate finally does come along.

Polyamory isn’t uncommon amongst soulmates, as their bond is strong enough to allow romantic feelings for others, though Tegoshi wouldn’t call Koyama and Massu his boyfriends. They’re there when he wants sex or other forms of intimacy, but any other time they’re just regular friends who hang out and waste time together while Koyama and Massu are the ones in an actual relationship.

Tegoshi remembers when Koyama and Massu had first realized they were each other’s soulmates, which was _six years_ after they met. They were both friends of Tegoshi’s from previous eras of his life, and after a while it was easier to just hang out with both of them together instead of spending time with each of them separately. And so the three of them became a trio—a platonic one, at first.

After numerous dive bars, movie nights, and simply lounging around someone’s apartment doing nothing, Koyama had dragged Tegoshi to a 2NE1 concert and came back to a distraught Massu on his porch. What happened next was straight out of a romcom, Tegoshi watching from the sidelines in mild amusement as Massu started singing the Japanese version of “Crush.”

“If I’d known you were a fan, I would have taken you instead,” Koyama had greeted him, oblivious to Massu’s uncharacteristic frazzled state. “Yuuya wore earplugs the whole time.”

“I like watching them dance,” Tegoshi had protested, but neither one was paying him any mind.

“I heard it,” Massu had said, pointing to his head. “The entire concert. I _heard it_.”

They had stared at each other for so long that Tegoshi almost went inside and left them to it. Then Koyama had eyed Massu up and down, like he were seriously considering him for the first time, and his resulting nod looked like it was more for himself than the others.

“We are going to have the cleanesthome _ever_ ,” Koyama had finally said, and both Massu and Tegoshi burst out laughing, though Massu’s was accompanied by a relieved grin that Koyama slowly emulated.

Tegoshi had thought it was going to suck having his two best friends get together, and it probably would have if they’d actually left him out of anything. He’s been included every step of the way, even the messy relationship drama he doesn’t want any part of, from their first kiss on Koyama’s porch that night to yesterday when they’d discussed adopting a child in their three-way group chat.

“What are you guys gonna do when my soulmate arrives to whisk me away?” Tegoshi has teased more than once, and Massu replied that they would throw a party while Koyama smiled solemnly at whatever reaction he had to that thought.

The endless playlist in his head is more tolerable when they’re around anyway.

*

Recently, Tegoshi’s soulmate has taken to creating their own music. Normally, Tegoshi wouldn’t know the difference, except that these pieces were less of a completed production and more of a work in progress. Tegoshi doesn’t mind them as much, because it’s interesting to hear the process by which his soulmate layers the tracks, grooving to himself at the beats come to form their own arrangement.

After three decades of listening to people singing in several different languages, only one of which he actually understands, the instrumentals were a blissful reprieve. Ironically, his own lyrics start to appear in his mind, matching the melody and adding an additional element of emotional involvement that Tegoshi hasn’t felt before. 

He gets so into it that he sings along under his breath, then more loudly, until he’s ignoring the code he’d been working on to devote himself entirely to this mental collaboration.

Then it stops. It _stops_. For the first time in at least three days, Tegoshi hears _no music_. There are crickets chirping and other household noises that have been drowned out up until now. He can hear himself breathe, the keys clacking as he types, his upstairs neighbors walking around. Emma snores in her sleep, which he hasn’t really noticed until now.

One hour, two hours later, there’s still nothing. The silence is lonely.

Tegoshi didn’t realize how much he’d come to rely on the music as company until it was gone. He worries that something bad has happened to his soulmate, and how he’s helpless to do anything if it had. He doesn’t know how to initiate contact aside from playing music of his own, but he doesn’t have any. He hasn’t needed it before.

He loads the YouTube app and hits play on the first music video he finds, which is some video game BGM recommended from his history of walk-throughs. It serves the purpose though, because the original music returns to his mind—probably to drown out the fast-paced electronica—and Tegoshi mutes his laptop volume as fast as he’d turned it on. The internal sound is comforting, like a tight hug, and Tegoshi sings the lyrics he’d written in his head more confidently this time, belting out a strong vibrato he hadn’t known he was capable of as the song reaches its climax.

When it’s over, he’s out of breath and his skin tingles like he’d just had an intense orgasm. He may not have had the most traditional soulmate experience so far, but he’s pretty sure that it’s not supposed to be like this. You hear the music, you catch the feels, you meet in real life. He supposes this is kind of like that, only he had to become _part_ of the music before he felt anything other than eternal resentment.

His soulmate plays the track three more times while Tegoshi sings along, perfecting his vocals with each run-through, and they follow it up with a song Tegoshi hasn’t heard before. The chorus keeps saying “let me hear your voice” and Tegoshi’s blood runs cold at the realization that his soulmate had _heard him sing_.

Then everything goes quiet again, and now Tegoshi’s searching YouTube for a song he actually knows and likes well enough to sing. The first one he thinks of is “Can You Feel the Love Tonight” from _The Lion King_ , which they had both loved as kids if the endless repeat of the soundtrack in Tegoshi’s five-year-old mind was any indication.

His English isn’t great, but the lyrics are on the screen and he does his best. If nothing else, he _feels_ the words as he finally experiences what everyone has told him it would be like to bond with his soulmate, which he had honestly thought was a myth up until this moment.

He wishes the two of them could just talk normally, or even send messages online, if only to figure out where his soulmate is and how to meet. He’s not even mad about the lifelong background music anymore—all he wants is to see this person in the flesh, to feel what he feels right now with them in front of him.

And maybe yank out their earbuds.

In the meantime, he looks up the lyrics to the songs that play in his head so that he can sing along.

*

It’s been a whole week since Shige has posted on his blog or any social media platform, and Tegoshi’s concerned enough to send Koyama over to check on him. Koyama protests that he can’t just go over there without warning, the knocking will startle him and make him too anxious to respond, and since when does Tegoshi care about him anyway?

“It’s not like him to go all radio silent like this,” Tegoshi argues over speakerphone—he needs both hands for his game controller. “American politics alone usually warrant at least two rants before lunch, and there’s been _nothing_ for _days_.”

“Maybe he took a break,” Koyama suggests. “Even Internet activists need self care.”

Tegoshi makes a deflated noise, briefly glancing away from the TV to glare at his phone display like this is all Apple’s fault.

“I’m pretty sure I heard his door open earlier today, so he’s alive at least,” Koyama says, and Tegoshi feels a smidgen better. “I’m sure he’s fine. Probably just swamped with work or something.”

“Thanks, Kei-chan,” Tegoshi mutters.

“Have you had anymore breakthroughs with your soulmate?” Koyama asks excitedly, and Tegoshi grins at the warm feeling he gets at the thought.

“No, but it’s nice now,” he answers. “I think they like my voice.”

“I don’t know of anyone who has heard their soulmate sing before,” Koyama goes on. “Maybe it’s some kind of adaptation since you don’t listen to music and they don’t _stop_.”

Tegoshi shrugs, which of course Koyama can’t see. “Maybe. I tried making up lyrics containing my name and phone number in case they could hear it, but I suppose if that worked then everyone would do it.”

Koyama grunts in affirmation. “Want us to come over and keep you company?”

“Nah,” Tegoshi replies. “I’m deep into my new game. And it’s not fair to be distracted by someone else when I’m with you.”

“I don’t mind,” Koyama tells him, and a different kind of warmth spreads throughout Tegoshi’s body. “Takahisa probably wouldn’t even notice you were only there in body.”

“Probably not.” Tegoshi laughs. “I’ll talk to you later. Good night.”

After another couple hours of figuring out his new virtual universe, he tries to get some sleep, but it doesn’t come. It doesn’t help that his soulmate is listening to angsty breakup music. Tegoshi feels sad by proxy, despite having not experienced heartbreak since uni. Maybe his soulmate was already in a relationship when Tegoshi had made contact, and now things are complicated. He wishes he could somehow convey his openness to polyamory through their music-only connection, but he doesn’t know of any multi-love anthems to play.

Around 4am, he admits defeat and boots up his laptop, clicking around the usual haunts for any late night updates. He sits straight up in bed when he sees that there’s a notification for Shige’s blog, rushing to click it while riding a wave of relief he doesn’t quite understand. His eyes are still focusing when the post loads, and he has to reread the first two sentences three times before he believes what they say.

“I’ve been quiet because I finally heard my soulmate the other day. I was playing around with musical arrangements, and they started singing their own lyrics to it.”

Tegoshi may have stopped breathing. _Shige_ is his soulmate. Hermit, autistic Shige who doesn’t speak and feels extreme discomfort from pretty much everything another person can do around him.

Shige, who for the entire thirty-one years they’ve been on this earth has plugged his ears with music to dilute the sudden noises of the world, to protect himself from the pain.

“Their voice was beautiful, like an angel was serenading me in my own head,” Shige goes on, and Tegoshi preens at the high praise. In another life, he really could have been an idol. “It didn’t hurt to listen to, and I started to wonder if maybe this could work after all, if the gods had matched me with someone who complemented me despite my neurodiversity. Perhaps they are autistic too.”

Now Tegoshi’s frowning. He’s struggled with anxiety and depression in the past, but not anything neurological. He wonders if that’s a deal-breaker, then stops to think about what he even wants the outcome to be here. Does he really want a partner around whom he has to take so many precautions? He’s never even met Shige face to face, only seen pictures when Shige’s felt like posting them.

“Even if they aren’t autistic, they have to be compatible with me, right? We wouldn’t be soulmates otherwise. I have a lot of requirements, but wouldn’t they already meet them? Isn’t that what being made for each other means?”

Tegoshi’s never seen so many questioning words in Shige’s posts, the uncertainty unnerving him a little. If he’s seeking validation from the Internet, he _must_ be desperate. Probably he doesn’t have a Koyama to run to for reassurance when his life turns upside-down. It’s difficult enough for Tegoshi to make close friends, online or off; he can only imagine how much harder it is for someone who is actually socially impaired.

“Soulmate-san, if you happen to come across this post, please understand that I am equal parts terrified and excited about pursuing anything further with you. I have had dating partners before who claimed they were fine with the way I am, until they weren’t. Since we are soulmates, I would hope you’d be different, but that doesn’t change how my past experiences have molded me. I am very scared, but I’m willing to try.

“If you are in any way hesitant about being with someone like me, please don’t force yourself. I’m fine with the way things are. Just hearing you sing to me is enough to make me feel so happy and loved. The world is cruel and humanity is fading fast, but creating beautiful music with you makes everything a little brighter. All my love, Kato Shigeaki.”

Tegoshi’s vision is blurry for another reason now, not even bothering to hold back his tears as he pulls his collar up to wipe his eyes. He’s not hesitant about being with someone who is autistic; what he’s hesitant about is _how_ to be with him. Communicating only via text isn’t troublesome at all, but he would like to see Shige in person, even if Shige can’t talk to him. Maybe they can come up with hand signals or something, at the very least a code to let Tegoshi know when something he’s doing is too much.

Sex isn’t that important since he can get it from Koyama and Massu, which begs the question of whether Tegoshi’s going to continue doing whatever he’s been doing with them once he’s with Shige. If Shige’s even open to that. Shige has posted about polyamory before, just like he’s posted about every other “deviant” lifestyle that the general public collectively misunderstands, but that doesn’t mean he practices it.

There are just so many variables and Tegoshi is so _tired_ , exhausted from the lack of sleep and the extreme workout his heart has done in the past ten minutes without even moving. There’s no way he can make an informed decision right now, even if he already knows what he wants to do. Patience never has been his strong suit.

His alarm goes off far too early, and he drags himself out of bed while cursing his job for making him go into the office instead of working from home. Never mind that there’s no way he would get an entire day’s work done on his couch with all the temptations the Internet has to offer. He has a hard enough time staying focused normally, let alone when he’d just _found his soulmate_. Companies should honestly offer paid leave for that.

It’s not until he’s out of the shower that he opens his eyes enough to see the blinking light on his phone. It’s from Koyama, in their group chat with Massu.

“Have you read Shige’s blog post yet? I can’t believe it! What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to be with him, Kei-chan,” Tegoshi answers out loud, leaving the message on read until he gets some coffee. “Somehow, I’ll be with him.”

*

It takes three days for Tegoshi to direct message Wagahai 711 on Discord, or more accurately it takes Koyama three days to fail at talking Tegoshi _out_ of it.

“I’m telling you, you’re going to get frustrated with him,” Koyama tries to get through to him, pacing behind Tegoshi’s couch with Emma jumping at his heels. “It’s not fair to either one of you to set yourselves up for heartbreak. I have half a mind to message him _myself_ so that he knows what he’s getting into.”

“Do as you please,” Tegoshi replies as he tosses around opening lines in his head. What does one even say in this kind of situation? It’s unprecedented.

“Yuuya, you can’t even touch him,” Koyama says firmly, and Tegoshi twitches at the intensity in his voice. “You’d have to have an entirely two-dimensional relationship, which we both know will end up disappointing you.”

“You don’t know what will or won’t be,” Tegoshi counters, ignoring how Koyama’s face falls at his continued stubbornness. “He has said on his blog it could be possible with the right sensory stimulation, so I’ll keep trying until I get it right. And if I don’t, I’ll make it work another way. I’ve waited _so long_ , Kei-chan, and so has he. I owe it to both of us to at least give it a chance.”

Koyama huffs and flops down next to Tegoshi, aggressively petting Emma who enjoys the extra force and barks happily like nothing is wrong. “I had a feeling it might be him, you know. He always had earbuds in whenever I saw him. One time, I was close enough to hear what he was listening to, and it was the same group you were whining about later that day.”

Tegoshi ignores him and focuses on typing. “It’s me. I’m your soulmate. I’m willing to try too. Here is my number if you want to text.”

It sounds dumb no matter how he words it, but maybe it will read better to Shige. Koyama shakes his head in exasperation, and Tegoshi’s still frowning at him when his phone goes off, grabbing for it so fast that he drops it twice before he gets a good grip.

“Really? I’m so glad it’s someone I already know! I have to check though—what song am I listening to right now?”

The repetitive pop song in the back of Tegoshi’s head changes abruptly, and Tegoshi laughs out loud when he hears the opening notes to— “’Hakuna Matata’,” he types back with a lion emoji.

“I must have wore out that CD when we were kids LOL,” Shige replies. “I hope I didn’t annoy you too much.”

“I got used to it ☺,” Tegoshi tells him. “Now that I understand why you listen to music all the time, I don’t mind hearing it anymore.”

“I wonder what you thought of me before. What kind of person is _always_ listening to music? Are you really okay with being with someone who has autism?”

“I’ve been reading your blog since we used to game together. I’m prepared to type everything out and change my laundry detergent if it means I can be in the same room as you.”

It comes out more forward than Tegoshi would have liked, but anything less would have been dishonest. Shige deserves better than that, even if it means an awkward discussion now.

“You can talk. I might just need to type my answers,” Shige tells him. “My voice doesn’t usually work when I want it to, especially when I’m anxious. And it’s not laundry detergent so much as strong perfume or natural body odor. With scents, I’m hyposensitive as well as hypersensitive—a pleasant smell can make me feel really good too.”

“That makes sense, and it’s all reasonable,” Tegoshi agrees. He wouldn’t want to get close to someone who smelled like a brothel or BO either. He tells Shige as much, wrinkling his nose when Shige replies that those scents _linger_ for _hours_  even after the culprits are gone, so grossed out that he abruptly changes the subject. “Do you like dogs?”

“I do! My parents had a little dachshund who was my best friend. They don’t bark or make sudden jumps. You have a poodle, right?”

“I do, and she’s a good girl.” Tegoshi holds up his phone to snap a picture of Emma, who’s still in heaven with Koyama scratching her belly. “You may recognize your neighbor. He’s not very supportive of my decision to contact you.”

“LOL Koyama-san is too protective of me. It’s nice, but I’m glad you didn’t listen to him.”

This would be a perfect segue into polyamory, but Tegoshi thinks that might be a conversation better had in person. “I’ve always wanted to meet you,” he admits instead.

“I will meet you,” Shige tells him. “I’m scared and nervous and worried how my brain will react around you, but I really want to see you.”

Oh, right, Shige wouldn’t know what Tegoshi looks like unless he goes back _really_ far on Insta. He searches his gallery for a couple flattering shots (including Emma) and shoots them off. “My hair is pink now,” he adds.

“I meant I want to see you in 3D! Sorry, I am typing fast without thinking first. When is a good time for you to come by? I’ll make dinner.”

Tegoshi considers his schedule. “I’m free Sundays. I work six days a week, and while I absolutely want to see you, I won’t be at my best after hours of coding.”

“I understand that very much,” Shige replies, and he would. “Sunday is perfect.”

Koyama’s still frowning when Tegoshi finally looks up from his phone, grinning enough for the both of them. “He invited me over~”

“This is not going to end well,” Koyama says firmly. “At least we’re right next door when something goes wrong.”

“Have a little faith, please?” Tegoshi asks, and Koyama sighs. “If Massu can put up with your shit all the time, anything is possible.”

Koyama nudges him so hard that he messes up typing, but he’s laughing. “He said the same thing.”

“Ah, kindred spirits,” Tegoshi teases, and Koyama knocks the phone out of his hand and tackles him.

An hour later, when Tegoshi remembers that other things exist besides Koyama and sex, he sees the blinking light on his phone.

“You can bring Emma, if you want. It will be nice to have a dog around again.”

Emma chooses that moment to jump up for attention, like she _knows_ , and Tegoshi schedules in a bath for _both_ of them in the morning.

*

Everything Tegoshi knows about autism, he’s read on the Internet. Sometimes, Shige will link other people’s posts sharing their own experiences, and he speaks highly of the American medical drama about an autistic doctor while roasting the Netflix special about an autistic teenager. Inevitably, just like no two neurotypical people are the same, neither are neurodiverse people, so as Tegoshi makes the familiar trek to the unfamiliar door the next afternoon, the only thing Tegoshi expects is the unexpected.

There’s a piece of tape over Shige’s doorbell with a note that says “please knock,” so Tegoshi follows directions, his thoughts racing with each passing second. It’s already weird to be on this side of the patio, waiting to be let in instead of barging into Koyama and Massu’s apartment like he lives there, but maybe it’s good to have no control over the situation for once. This is how Shige feels all the time.

Shige offers a quick smile when he opens the door, and Tegoshi’s nerves instantly calm. Neurological deviance aside, it’s natural to be nervous when one first meets their soulmate, but Shige looks more excited than anything. He’s bouncing a little, holding onto his hands and rubbing his fingers together as he stares directly over Tegoshi’s right ear.

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and he frowns for a second before letting go of his hands to wave Tegoshi inside. Tegoshi crosses the threshold and starts taking off his boots, placing them next to the one pair already in the genkan, and Shige immediately leans down to adjust them more neatly in a straight line.

Emma prances happily between them, yipping for attention until Tegoshi hushes her and tells her to sit pretty. She does, wagging her tail and looking like she could jump out of her fur as she patiently waits for Shige to greet her, which he does after a brief delay. Tegoshi can tell that it’s _killing_ her not to jump on him, but he’s paid a lot of money for her behavior classes and it’s worth it when Shige plops onto the floor and pats his knees, inviting her into his lap on his own terms.

“Hi,” Tegoshi says, taking care to keep his voice soft, and Shige starts to flap his hands before grabbing onto them again, halting himself like he was undoubtedly taught as a child. “It’s okay," Tegoshi says gently. "If you can’t express yourself with words, do it however feels right to you, even if others have told you not to.”

Shige nods firmly, lowering his head like he’s being reprimanded, and Tegoshi frowns for the few seconds it takes Shige to flap freely, rocking a little where he sits. Emma noses at his overactive wrists until he pets her with what looks like a lot of pressure, which she loves, and somehow Tegoshi feels more enamored by Shige’s excitement than if he’d squealed and thrown his arms around him. The pure energy is literally forcing its way out of his body any way it can.

“Here,” Tegoshi says, holding out his phone with the notepad app open. “Type to me if you need to.”

With a heaving sigh, which Tegoshi thinks might be gratitude, Shige accepts the device and starts rapidly typing with one hand. Tegoshi thinks about reading over his shoulder, then remembers how often he deletes and rewords his own messages before sending them. He'll wait until Shige has completed his thoughts.

It’s not long before the phone is thrust back toward Tegoshi, and Tegoshi rushes to read it.

“I am so overloaded right now. It’s not the bad kind. I’m happy to meet you and hear your voice for real. You are even more aesthetically pleasing to look at than your pictures, and I’m feeling a lot of things that are new to me, but probably exist because we are soulmates. Your dog is cute too. Shall we move from the genkan? I want to hold your hand, if that’s okay.”

Tegoshi almost laughs at Shige being the one asking for consent to make physical contact, but all he does is nod and hold out his hand for Shige to take. Shige’s grip is surprisingly firm, and he ends up pulling Tegoshi all the way up to his feet before dragging him around the apartment, pointing to various things he wants Tegoshi to see while Emma trots alongside them.

It’s the same layout as Koyama and Massu’s place, except flip-flopped, but that’s the only similarity. Shige has so much _stuff_ , figurines and all different kinds of art and _books_ , so many books. His bedroom is practically a library of bookshelves, stocked with fiction and nonfiction and entire series of manga. When Tegoshi looks closer, he finds that everything is categorized by series and then by size, the decorative objects symmetrically placed, and incredibly clean. Shige must dust every day.

His refrigerator is stocked too, containing more fresh produce and meat than any other bachelor their age. Tegoshi doesn’t remember the last time he bought a vegetable, but Shige does cook a lot and has blogged about planning his meals in advance to order what he needs for that week. He claims it's easier to just make everything himself than worry about finding something that doesn't agree with him in already-processed food.

Shige squeezes his hand and Tegoshi looks over to where he’s pointing at the door of the fridge, which contains several different kinds of beverages arranged by height. It takes Tegoshi a second to realize he’s being offered a drink, not just being shown the inside of his soulmate’s refrigerator.

“That one,” he says, pointing to a single-serving bottle of juice, and Shige abruptly lets go of his hand to retrieve the bottle and pour it into a glass for him. “Thanks.”

It feels weird being the only one speaking, but Shige had made it clear that he enjoys the sound of Tegoshi's voice and Tegoshi wants him to feel as good as possible. It’s unnaturally quiet without the music in his head, and Tegoshi wonders if that might be making this more uncomfortable for _both_ of them.

“Do you need earbuds to listen to music?” he asks when they settle on the couch, and Shige nods as he reaches for his laptop and opens a blank document.

“Speakers confuse me and I don’t process the sounds as well,” he types. “I don’t like the vibrations from the bass either. Computer and cell phone audio feels like stabbing my brain. With the earbuds, the music is _in_ me, so it doesn’t hurt.”

“I understand,” Tegoshi says. “I haven’t experienced this much silence before. It’s a little creepy.”

Shige scoffs and highlights his previous passage to type over it. “I can put them in, but I won’t be able hear your voice anymore. It’s not very often that I find an external sound that I actually crave, so feel free to talk about anything. Or sing, if the mood strikes.”

Tegoshi laughs despite the warmth in his heart. “The only songs I know are the ones you’ve listened to on repeat.”

“Then I’ll already like them,” Shige types, and Tegoshi struggles to remember the melody of _anything_ he’s heard in the past thirty years now there there’s nothing playing in his head. “Or you can just talk. Tell me who Tegoshi Yuuya is. You already know everything about me from my blog, but I don’t know anything about you. May I lay my head on your shoulder?”

Tegoshi responds by lifting up his arm, feeling even warmer as Shige snuggles up to him. Koyama had been dead wrong about Shige being touch adverse, or perhaps he’s just having a good day, or maybe it’s because they're soulmates. Regardless of the reason, Shige settles into his embrace and reaches for his other hand, emitting a low noise when Tegoshi squeezes his shoulders.

Then Tegoshi starts to talk. He doesn’t think his origin story is particularly fascinating, but he finds himself feeling nostalgic about his childhood and all the trouble he used to cause as he speaks of his family, old friends, even relationships. Shige’s laugh startles him, his voice much deeper than Tegoshi had expected, but it feels nice reverberating through his chest and he keeps making jokes to feel more of it.

When he gets to the part of his life where Koyama and Massu appear, Shige squeezes his hand and Tegoshi wonders if he knows already, if Koyama had messaged him after all or if he has ever seen them kiss outside his front door.

“The three of us, we kind of have a thing,” Tegoshi ends up confessing, his need to be honest overriding the comfortable stability of continuing to lie here like this. “They love each other, but they also love me too. Well, Kei-chan does. Massu just likes having another person around to tend to his insatiable partner.”

Shige doesn’t say anything, nor does he reach for his laptop. He also doesn’t loosen his grip on Tegoshi’s hand or make any effort to move out of his embrace, so Tegoshi considers that a win and changes the subject to his job. Now that he thinks about it, they do work in similar industries, both of them stringing code together to create a program. If that isn’t destiny, he doesn’t know what is.

“I haven’t spoken this much in ages,” Tegoshi thinks out loud, his laugh coming out a bit grated. “My throat is starting to feel strained.”

His eyes are closed, having nothing to look at until Shige types to him again, so he doesn’t see Shige’s other hand lifting to his neck and gently rubbing underneath his jaw. It’s so unexpected and _intimate_ that Tegoshi gasps at the touch, tightening his arm around Shige’s shoulders as he tilts back his head to feel more.

Shige shifts next to him, and Tegoshi peeks one eye open to see the other man kneeling next to him and scrutinizing his face, chewing on his bottom lip as he traces the dips and angles of Tegoshi’s jaw and throat. It’s the single most erotic experience of Tegoshi’s life and all of their clothes are on, his limbs turning to jelly under Shige’s careful mapping of his features.

“Does it feel good to touch me like this?” he breathes out, and Shige nods. “It feels good to me too.”

For one brief fraction of a second, Shige meets his eyes, instantly darting them away like the contact had burned him. He glances over to his laptop and Tegoshi tries to gather the energy to get it for him, giving him an outlet to communicate whatever’s on his mind, but he can’t move out from under whatever trance Shige has put him in.

Then Shige closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and slowly says, “This is easy.”

“What’s easy?” Tegoshi asks softly, taking in the pleasant depth of Shige’s voice. “Being like this? Touching me?”

Shige nods, his eyes still shut. “Expressing myself without speaking. Uses a different part of the brain. One that works properly.”

“Is it easier to talk with your eyes closed?” Tegoshi wonders out loud.

“Yes,” Shige answers. “But it’s scary. I can’t see what’s coming.”

“I won’t do anything without asking first, I promise.” Tegoshi recalls one of Shige’s many online rants about consent. “That’s how it should be with everyone, autistic or not.”

Another quick smile relaxes Tegoshi considerably, even if it looks a little strange with closed eyes. “Just tell me when, and it’s okay.”

“What’s okay?” Tegoshi asks, suddenly alert at the thought of having blanket consent from someone who’s entirely guided by their senses. “Please type exactly what you mean.”

Shige actually whines as he pulls himself away from Tegoshi’s face to reach for his laptop, and Tegoshi finds his reluctance extremely relatable—and adorable. Shige squints as he opens his eyes, cringing despite the low level of brightness on the screen, and Tegoshi breathes deeply to remain calm while he waits (impatiently).

Soon enough, Shige balances the laptop on both of their laps, and Tegoshi struggles to focus on each word instead of skimming through.

“I’ll be blunt—I like sex. All of the emotional complications that come from it, the social rules that I have never and probably will never understand make me reluctant to do it, but as long as I’m comfortable, I enjoy sex a lot. It overloads my senses in a good way and leaves me feeling grateful that my brain is wired differently. It’s probably the only time I don’t resent being born autistic.

“I understand if the idea of being like that with me makes you uneasy. Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we have to be intimate that way. I’m happy to touch you however you will let me, and you are welcome to touch me too. Just tell me first. I don’t need an orgasm, although those are nice too. I can always do that myself.”

Tegoshi’s breath hitches at the implication of that last sentence, the whole thing really. It hasn’t even been a whole week since he’d learned who his soulmate is, but it can hardly be considered moving too fast since Tegoshi’s hopped into bed with random people he’s known for less than an hour before. Even with feelings added in, particularly Shige’s indifference like sex is just one thing soulmates can do together instead of the _main_ thing, it makes more sense to accept it than to fight it.

“I want to,” Tegoshi says, and Shige chews on his bottom lip again, his hands flapping now that they’re not touching Tegoshi anymore. “I guess I am uneasy, because it feels like I’d be taking advantage of you. How do I know that you actually want _me_ and you’re not just riding high on the sensory stimulation? How is that any different than being drunk?”

Shige grabs his laptop back and starts typing furiously. He doesn’t _look_ mad, but Tegoshi’s not the best one to deduce someone else’s emotions, especially when he’s already so lost and out of his comfort zone. If anything, _he’s_ the one who needs to learn more and better understand how Shige’s brain works before anything like that happens between them, and he probably should have led with that instead of accusing someone of being unable to consent because he’s autistic.

“I’m sorry—” he starts, but Shige’s already shoving the laptop back at him and staring intently at the puppy who noses her way under his hands. Tegoshi’s starting to think that Emma can sense whenever he makes someone angry and uses it to her benefit to get rough petting.

“Can they not be the same thing?” Shige’s response reads. “It’s not like being drunk at all. I still have my right mind. I am well aware of what I want, what I don’t want, what feels good, and what doesn’t feel good. I have spent so long fending off unwelcome sensations that when I _finally_ find a pleasant combination, I want to hold onto it as long as I can and never let go. If anyone’s taking advantage of anything, it’s _me_ because it’s so rare that I am comfortable enough to be physically intimate that I want to do it before something happens to turn me off, like having my sanity questioned by my soulmate.”

“I’m not—” Tegoshi starts, then falls silent as Shige starts rocking back and forth next to him, cradling Emma to his chest. It reminds Tegoshi of when he used to have anxiety attacks and the only way to make it better was to find something to ground him and ride it out. “Should I leave?”

Shige shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut to form the words, “Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry,” Tegoshi says again. “I’m not used to this blatant acceptance of sex as a regular activity instead of something that should only be done under certain circumstances. We’re shamed from a young age to think it’s a big deal and recent events have further cemented its seriousness and how careful we need to be about it. I deeply regret insulting you, but I hope you can understand that I’m just making absolute sure you want _me_ since you don’t give off any social cues that make it obvious.”

Shige scoffs at that, and Tegoshi feels like he keeps digging himself deeper into a hole until the speed of Shige’s typing evens out. “I get that, but you have to believe what I say even if it’s not how you’re used to being reassured. If I could tell you with words, I would, but they’d probably come out emotionless and defeat the purpose. I could tell you with my body, but you are being very clear that you don’t want that right now, and I respect that. I’ll wait until you’re ready, though I’d like to know if you even see me that way, or could.”

“I...” Tegoshi trails off as he looks over at his unconventional soulmate. Shige is a beautiful man with a brilliant mind and a big heart, who is also into gaming and coding and staying at home avoiding other people. For what he lacks in body language, he makes up for with his honest words, even if they’re typed. “I need time,” he finally says.

Shige makes the OK sign with both hands and the tension that had accumulated within Tegoshi instantly deflates. Shige types some more and actually gets up when he’s done, stretching all the way to the ceiling before disappearing down the hall.

“I hope you’ll stay a little longer. I’m not good with hints, so if you want to leave, you’ll have to tell me. Until then, shall I cook for you? I can make us dinner, and maybe we can watch a movie. I have a lot of movies, though I normally use wireless headphones and I only have one pair. I can turn on the subtitles, if that’s not too much trouble? I’ll order a second pair tomorrow. BRB.”

After a few minutes, Shige returns and rocks back and forth on his heels, hands flapping freely, and Tegoshi looks at him expectantly until he figures out that Shige’s waiting for an answer. “Dinner sounds great,” Tegoshi tells him. “I don’t mind subtitles, or just cuddling with you while _you_ watch the movie.”

Shige stares at the floor, but his face is tinted pink. Wordlessly, he retreats into the kitchen and starts pulling things out of the fridge and cabinets, and Tegoshi scrolls through his phone for a bit before joining him out of sheer curiosity. Shige jumps a little when he sees Tegoshi in the doorway, but he quickly waves him in and manages to put him to work without speaking. Tegoshi imagines that he’s gotten really good at gesturing over the years, with anyone who cares enough to make the effort to follow what he’s trying to say anyway.

It’s oddly comfortable to cook in silence, only the sounds of chopping and bubbling oil wafting toward Tegoshi’s ears. He doesn’t really have anything to say right now, and Shige seems more focused on what he’s doing than Tegoshi’s presence, so Tegoshi just enjoys the rare peace and delicious smells that start to form from their combined efforts.

Tegoshi’s not much of a foodie, but he can appreciate good pasta and while Shige doesn’t outwardly respond to the praise, Tegoshi can tell that he’s pleased. It’s interesting how Shige’s reactions are completely different than anything he’s ever known before, but lucky for him, he has the rest of his life to figure them out.

And later, when Tegoshi’s the one under Shige’s arm, not even trying to read the subtitles on whatever Oscar-nominated trash Shige had put on, the film score playing in his head takes a backdrop to the steady beating of Shige’s heart.

*

“I take it back,” Koyama says dryly. “You two are perfect for each other.”

Tegoshi grins from where he’s camped out on Koyama and Massu’s couch, deeply involved in texting Shige on his phone instead of _going next door_. “We both need our space,” he explains. “You wouldn’t understand that since you and Massu are up each other’s butts all the time.”

“Please reword that,” Massu comments from the next cushion, where Tegoshi’s utilizing him as a pillow.

Koyama sighs. “I’m not one to pass judgment about other people’s relationships, but—”

“Stop right there,” Tegoshi halts him, lifting an open hand to punctuate his statement without breaking his typing stride. “I’ve seen enough ‘I’m not racist _but_ ’ memes to know that nothing good can follow that clause.”

“It’s a conjunction,” Massu interjects.

“Don’t you two want to, you know, _be together_?” Koyama asks, and the way he smooshes his hands together is more amusing than anything else. Even Massu’s giving him a strange look.

“If I hadn’t been to bed with both of you, I’d be really concerned about your definition of _being together_ ,” Tegoshi points out, and Massu laughs out loud. “It’s easier to get all of the talking out of the way like this so we can just enjoy each other when we meet up.”

“I thought you said he could talk if he closed his eyes?” Massu asks.

“Just because he _can_ do something doesn’t mean it’s the best way to do it,” Tegoshi says. “It’s easier for him to type out his thoughts than push them out with his voice. It’s different parts of the brain. I never thought studying psychology would come in handy until now—I must have memorized all of the parts of the brain in every single class.”

“As long as you’re both happy,” Koyama mumbles, and Tegoshi glances up from the screen to pout at him. “What’s that face for? Can’t I be disappointed that you’re not all lovey-dovey with your soulmate?

“No, you can’t,” Tegoshi answers bluntly. “How long have you known me? When have I _ever_ been lovey-dovey over another person? I’m not going to suddenly change my personality just because I found my soulmate, and neither is he. Doggone it, that may just be why we’re soulmates to begin with!”

“You don’t have to make fun of me.” Koyama flops down next to Tegoshi and plops his head right in Tegoshi’s lap, nudging the phone out of his hands like the kitten that’s silently judging them all from her cat tree. “I had always thought that the four of us would hang out together, you know, once you found them. I don’t think that’s possible with Shige. It would be too much for him.”

“You don’t know that,” Tegoshi says as he shoots off another message. “Also, he really doesn’t like it when people decide for him what he can and cannot handle. After living every day for thirty-one years on this earth, he’s the best judge of his own limits, don’t you think? If you want to be friends with him, you should let him choose for himself.”

Koyama frowns. “I’ve tried for _years_ to be friends with him. He’ll bring me food and interact with me when we run into each other outside, but that’s it. You’ve probably messaged with him more in the past week than I have in the ten years we’ve lived next door to each other.”

“You come on really strongly sometimes,” Tegoshi says gently, then shakes his head because _honesty_. “A lot of the time, actually. I like that about you, and clearly Massu does too—” a noncommittal grunt sounds from his human pillow ”—but it’s not compatible with Shige at all. He doesn’t respond well to pressure, even if it’s well meaning.”

“Okay,” Koyama reluctantly agrees, and Tegoshi rewards him by stroking his hair. “I’ll try to be less...me.”

“Nobody’s asking you not to be yourself,” Tegoshi tells him. “Just keep in mind he gets overwhelmed very easily. Isn’t that why you didn’t want me to do this? Now I’m the one protecting him from you. Is that lovey-dovey enough for you?”

“Actually, yes,” Koyama says, rolling onto his back to look up at Tegoshi with soft eyes. “I’m really proud of you, you know. I didn’t think you’d care enough to try for him, and you’re trying more than I ever did.”

“I’m not trying at all.” Tegoshi shrugs. “I’m leaving him be, letting him come to me on his own terms, and gradually understanding how his brain works so we can eventually get to the point where we just _exist_ together like any other pair of soulmates.”

“That’s so romantic, Yuuya,” Koyama coos, and Tegoshi pretends to smother him with the (real) pillow.

A monotonous knock sounds at the door, and both Koyama and Tegoshi look helplessly at Massu before the third man sighs and gets up to answer it. Though Tegoshi sits right up when he sees none other than Shige stepping into the genkan, adjusting his snapback so that the bill blocks most of the overhead light.

“Shige!” Tegoshi exclaims, grinning when Shige perks up at his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Shige pulls out his phone and sends a message, then slips off his shoes while Massu stands by looking incredibly amused. Tegoshi’s phone goes off, and he rushes to turn off the sound notification when Shige visibly cringes at the noise.

“’You said Koyama-san wanted the four of us to hang out together’,” Tegoshi reads out loud. “’So I came over’.”

“Shige~” Koyama calls out in this lovesick voice like those two were the soulmates instead. “I’m so glad you’re here. Please let us know if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable.”

Shige rocks where he stands, glancing around until his gaze lands on Milk. He gasps, then covers his nose and mouth like the sight of her ignites something hazardous.

“Are you allergic to cats?” Koyama asks gently, and Shige nods. “I can put Milk-chan in our room, but there’s probably fur on everything...”

“It’s...okay,” Shige gets out, his eyes squeezed shut for the brief time it took for him to speak. He reaches for his phone again, and this time Tegoshi frowns at the message. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Tegoshi assures him, then slumps in defeat when Shige glances over toward Milk again. “But you won’t breathe well if you stay either, huh?”

Shige stares at the floor and flaps his hands.

“Maybe we could go to your place?” Koyama suggests, and Shige jerks back like the words had physically pushed him. “Not right now, but whenever you feel like having company. I hear you’re an amazing cook.”

Shige chews his bottom lip as he gives a single nod.

“I’ll walk you home,” Tegoshi offers, jumping to his feet and carefully approaching the genkan to put on his shoes.

“It’s literally three meters away,” Massu mutters, and Koyama leans over the back of the couch to swat at him.

Once they’re outside, Tegoshi holds out his hand and Shige nearly trips over himself to take it in his own. “Thanks for trying,” Tegoshi says. “I’m happy to blow them off if you want company.”

“I don’t...” Shige starts, then inhales sharply as he uses what looks like all of his brainpower to make his words come out, holding onto Tegoshi’s hand for balance as he rocks with his eyes closed. “You’re with them now.”

“They seriously won’t mind,” Tegoshi assures him. “I’ve been messaging you the entire time I’ve been here anyway. We don’t have the kind of thing where we need each other’s undivided attention. But if you want to be alone, I understand.”

Shige grabs his other hand, shaking them both like he’s trying to convey a message that way, and Tegoshi’s about to insist he use his phone until Shige pulls him close, looping his arms around Tegoshi’s waist and pressing a sigh into his neck.

Slowly, Tegoshi embraces him back, breathing in the faint scent of shampoo and clean clothes mixed in with something that’s inherently Shige. Tegoshi is so warm and comfortable that the only thought he can spare is whether Shige feels the same way, which is evident with the way he’s clinging to Tegoshi like a lifeline.

“I love you,” that deep voice says into his skin, and now Shige’s the one holding up Tegoshi who loses control of his knees. “For accepting me as I am, for letting me be me, I love you.”

Tegoshi squeezes him tighter as his feelings pour out of his eyes. “What kind of soulmate would I be if I tried to change you?” he chokes out.

He sniffles and Shige immediately pulls back, peering curiously at the tears falling down Tegoshi’s cheeks. Swallowing hard, he lifts a shaky hand to wipe them away, so gently and attentively that it ignites a fresh wave. Tegoshi laughs out loud when Shige huffs in frustration, clearly intending to wipe away _all_ the tears only to have them replenished, and Tegoshi loosely encircles Shige’s wrist to guide it away.

“Thank you,” he says, staring right into Shige’s eyes that don’t stare back. “Whenever you’re ready, I’d really like to kiss you.”

Shige chews his bottom lip again, but then it’s pressed against Tegoshi’s and it takes Tegoshi a good few seconds to catch up. By the time he does, Shige has already pulled back, leaning his head down to press his forehead into Tegoshi’s shoulder.

“It’s not good standing up,” he mumbles. “It’s better when I’m lying down and I don’t have to think.”

The unintended forwardness has Tegoshi cracking up, and Shige starts to rock on his heels again until Tegoshi guides his head back up and leans in. He’s fully present this time, sliding a hand up Shige’s jaw as he brushes their lips together over and over again, each touch igniting another spark under Tegoshi’s skin.

He’d known that kissing his soulmate would be electric, but he didn’t think he wouldn’t be able to _stop_. It’s as addictive as air, and Shige’s hands on his waist do nothing to deter him from doing it more and more, his own hand sliding up Shige’s jaw to his hairline.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers between kisses. “I didn’t ask first before I touched your face.”

“You didn’t,” Shige replies, and the next second finds Tegoshi’s back against the wall, Shige’s firm body pressed flush against his. “Good thing I like it.”

He covers Tegoshi’s hand with his own and pushes it further back into his hair, which Tegoshi automatically twirls around his fingers as the heat between them grows. It’s Shige who flicks out his tongue first and Tegoshi’s so surprised that he doesn’t hold back his reciprocation, kissing Shige deeply and using his other arm to pull them closer together.

His fingers twist in Shige’s hair and the most beautiful moan dies on his tongue, both of their breaths growing short as the passion between them builds. Then Tegoshi remembers they’re _outside_ and abruptly breaks away, resting his head on Shige’s trembling shoulder as he attempts to regain his bearings after such a hot kiss.

“Sorry,” Shige whispers, and Tegoshi almost laughs at _Shige_ being the one to take responsibility for that. “I got carried away.”

“We both did,” Tegoshi replies, though he’s not quick to pry Shige’s body off of his. “I really want to continue this inside your apartment, but...”

He sighs, not really having a good reason for putting it off any longer, but Shige’s hold turns into a swaying hug. “I get it. Another time, okay?”

“Sounds like you’re speaking more easily,” Tegoshi points out. “Did I untie your tongue while I was in there?”

It’s an awful joke, but Shige bursts out laughing into his shoulder, his face pink when he finally detaches himself from Tegoshi and stands up straight. “Positive stimuli,” he says, and Tegoshi gapes at watching him speak for the first time with his eyes open. “The more there is, the more of my brain can be devoted to other tasks like turning my thoughts into words.”

“I’ve got _all_ the positive stimuli,” Tegoshi says, and Shige laughs again while bouncing and flapping some more. “Good night, Shige.”

“Good night, Yuuya,” Shige says clearly, and Tegoshi’s heart does weird things at finally hearing his name spoken by his soulmate.

He watches Shige let himself through his own front door before returning to Koyama and Massu, the former of whom is staring at him expectantly while the latter isn’t even in the room.

“You were gone for quite a while,” Koyama says, sounding more like a mother who caught their child coming home late than a worried friend. “Is everything okay?”

Something like excitement creeps up through Tegoshi’s body, and he sees no point in holding it back, letting the grin spread on his face. “He kissed me~”

Koyama squeals so loudly that Shige had to have heard it on the other side of the wall, but Tegoshi doesn’t have much time to be concerned about it before Koyama sweeps him into his arms and spins him around. “Was it amazing?”

“Yeah,” Tegoshi says. “I still feel all tingly.”

“Why did you come _back_?” Koyama asks, tackling Tegoshi to the couch and curling up with him. “Does he not want to have sex with you?”

Tegoshi snorts. “Oh, no, he does. I’m the one who’s putting it off.”

“What?!” Koyama exclaims, resting his chin on his hands on Tegoshi’s chest. “Aren’t you attracted to him?”

“I’m getting there,” Tegoshi answers, and Koyama frowns until he goes on. “It’s not right for us to do that until we’re both comfortable, right?”

Koyama’s expression softens. “Right. We’ve been together so long that I forgot how careful you are about ‘crossing that line’ with people. It means a lot to make love with your soulmate, doesn’t it?”

“Don’t say it like that,” Tegoshi says, wrinkling his nose. “It’s casual to him. Because of his heightened sensitivity, he’s more focused on the feeling than the person. I guess I’m just not sure that it’s _me_ he wants. Anyone can give him an orgasm. I want to be more than that person to him.”

“Are you kidding me?” Koyama demands, his voice so harsh that Tegoshi flinches like he’s getting reprimanded. “No one else can get _nearly_ as close to him, Yuuya. He can’t even walk into my apartment—do you honestly think it’s easy for him to go to bed with people? Your perception is skewed because his senses match up exactly with yours, because _you’re soulmates_. Imagine a whole lifetime of experiencing pain every time you tried to be intimate with someone. I’d be so desperate for affection that I’d jump the first person I felt comfortable around, soulmate or not.”

“Actually...” Tegoshi starts, feeling the blush crawl up his cheeks under Koyama’s pointed stare. “Things did get pretty heated up outside.”

“ _Go be with him_ ,” Koyama hisses. “If you don’t want to, that’s one thing, but you’re honestly sitting here saying that he doesn’t want you when an hour ago you were lecturing me about making decisions for him. You need to trust him when he tells you how he feels. He has no reason to lie to you.”

Tegoshi heaves a sigh as he glances over at his phone. “I’m scared that I’ll do something to hurt him and he won’t be able to tell me to stop,” he confesses. “I would _hate myself_ if he pushed through it and suffered because he didn’t want to ruin the mood. I can’t enjoy sex unless everyone involved is feeling good, you know that.”

“I do know that,” Koyama says, his tone gentler now. “I also know that you’re a fucking idiot if you think that talking is the only way to communicate during sex. Takahisa doesn’t say _one word_ to me once we get down to business, with or without you—he just moves me wherever he wants me. Have some faith in Shige to be attuned to his own needs. He’s certainly had plenty of time to find other ways to express himself than speaking.”

“You are so hot when you’re telling me off,” Tegoshi deadpans, and Koyama shoves him right off the couch. “Massu! Kei-chan is DVing me!”

“It’s not DV if you deserve it,” Massu calls back from wherever he is.

“That’s so wrong,” Tegoshi sputters as he tries to get up. “We’re horrible for joking about that.”

“I had nothing to do with that,” Koyama says. “And go fuck your soulmate.”

Tegoshi sighs again, finally making it up and reaching for his phone. “I changed my mind,” he types in Shige’s message box. “I wanna be with you. Can I come over?”

Koyama pats his shoulders before hoisting himself up from the couch, leaving Tegoshi to his devices. Except that when his phone goes off again, it’s not the response he’d anticipated.

“I am _really_ glad I checked my messages one more time before going to sleep! That is nice to hear, but it’s too late. I was so riled up that I was barely in the front door before I had to get off, and now I’m tired. Next time, finish what you start!”

“ _Dammit_ ,” Tegoshi hisses, his imagination plagued with thoughts of Shige touching himself on the other side of the wall. _Now_ he’s turned on, and joining Koyama and Massu won’t be enough to satisfy him this time. He doesn’t just want to get laid; he wants _Shige_.

“Looks like I’m going home to jerk off too,” he types, laughing when Shige leaves him on read.

*

Shige will insist that he doesn’t really have a special interest, but Tegoshi begs to differ when he’s ignored for a straight week while Shige loses himself in his latest novel. It seems that inspiration strikes at the most inopportune time, and anyone else would probably get butthurt when their soulmate didn’t want to see them for so long because they’d rather be _writing_.

Since it’s Tegoshi, he finds it amusing. Ironic too, since he’d _just_ accepted that he wants to be physically intimate with Shige. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that Shige was purposely making him wait since that’s what Tegoshi had done to him, but passive aggression is one of the social behaviors that Shige does not comprehend let alone successfully executes.

If Tegoshi’s being honest, he hasn’t seen much of a downside to being with someone who has autism. Shige is _brutally_ honest, even when he comes off rude or patronizing, and Tegoshi likes it just like he likes how Koyama’s overbearing. Sure, Tegoshi has to mind his volume and shower before he goes over to Shige’s place, but he doesn’t really miss his ringtones and he would have showered regardless.

Tegoshi has been aware the entire time he’s known Shige that Shige is passionate about social justice and human rights, but it’s different now that Shige’s more than just a gaming acquaintance. While Tegoshi would never lay claim to another person, he can’t deny that he feels a sense of pride when he reads Shige’s well-worded essay rants, thinking to himself, “That’s _my_  soulmate taking on the world.” 

He’s not that bummed out about all the free time either. The company he works for is finishing up production on a new game and Tegoshi has seniority on the development team despite outright refusing to be a project manager several times. Most of the pressure falls into _his_ lap and all he wants to do when he gets home is virtually shoot things. Even if Shige _did_ pry himself away from his self-created universe to send a message, Tegoshi may not have the mental energy to respond until the next morning, and anything more than that may have to wait until the weekend. Even sex— _especially_ sex.

Koyama doesn’t understand either one of them, but Tegoshi supposes that’s why he and Shige are the soulmates and Koyama’s linked with Massu who’s happy to share every piece of his life. It’s comforting, they both say, knowing that the other will always be there when they’re lonely and they’ll attack life head-on as a team. Tegoshi has always thought that kind of connection was better suited to best friends, but what does he know? Koyama and Massu _are_ his best friends. They’re his only friends.

When the weekend does come around, Shige sends a message apologizing for being distant and declaring that the wave of inspiration is over for now. “I want to see you,” he says, and Tegoshi takes the fastest shower of his life.

But when he gets there, sans Emma who has been staying with his mom while Tegoshi's worked overtime, Shige shrugs out of his hug and jerks every time Tegoshi speaks. Tegoshi passes a thought as to whether stimming is contagious because now he’s the one chewing on his bottom lip, watching Shige carefully to see if he can figure out what’s going on with him. He hasn’t seen him like this before.

Finally, Shige grabs for his phone and types off a message, and Tegoshi has to retrieve it from Shige's lap while Shige hugs himself and rocks back and forth on the couch more sharply that usual. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m overloaded. I just am.”

“What can I do?” Tegoshi asks gently, sitting a good distance away from him, ready to intervene if Shige started banging his head against anything. Shige has said that only happens during his really bad meltdowns, but Tegoshi’s not taking any chances.

“Be... _quiet_ ,” Shige hisses, and now his hands are over his ears, which is much better than balling into fists in Tegoshi’s opinion.

Tegoshi’s only offended for a second, because he wasn’t even being loud, but for all he knows it could have been the click of the door that set Shige off, or something that only Shige can hear. His apartment isn’t soundproof, and now that Tegoshi’s glancing around looking for the culprit, he sees that the window is open.

Nodding to himself, he remembers the group of kids he saw playing outside when he drove in. He doesn’t hear them now, but Shige’s complained in the past about the repeated bounce of a basketball on the sidewalk before. He knows it’s unreasonable, because children are allowed to play outside during daytime hours, but his brain doesn’t care what time it is.

Tegoshi spots one of Shige’s three iPods on the end table, earbuds plugged in, and grabs for it. Very, very slowly, he pushes it into Shige’s hand and helps him untangle the cord when he’s too shaky to do it himself. Then Tegoshi’s mind is filled with bursts of pop music as Shige aggressively shuffles until he finds something calmer.

The rocking slows, and Shige’s breaths become less harsh. Tegoshi holds out his hand, palm up, and feels like the most awesome person in the world when Shige takes it, squeezing so hard that Tegoshi might have a bruise. He doesn’t care if he does, because he succeeded in making Shige feel better even if they’re not out of the woods yet.

“I’m sorry,” Shige mutters, and Tegoshi shakes his head until he remembers that Shige can’t see him. “If you want to go...I hate every—”

He stops short, because Tegoshi’s singing. Tegoshi doesn’t know the song that’s playing, but it’s easy enough to figure out the melody and Tegoshi “ah~”s his way through it, gently rubbing Shige’s thumb with his in a gesture that he’s always found calming when done to him.

It takes another two songs for Shige to pull out one of the earbuds, and he crawls right into Tegoshi’s lap and clings to him, pressing his forehead into Tegoshi’s shoulder as he struggles to regulate his breathing.

Tegoshi kisses his forehead, and Shige sniffles. He was ready for this too, because he’s also used his free time to go back and read Shige’s hashtag actually-autistic posts and one of them goes into deep, dark details about how he experiences his meltdowns. Crying is a good sign because that means it’s almost over, the rage tornado inside him releasing itself the healthiest way it can.

It feels nice to rock with him as he lets it out, and gradually he feels Shige start to relax. The comedown isn’t that pleasant either, because while he’s physically okay, he’s mentally berating himself for being weak and useless and everything Tegoshi used to think about himself during his depressive episodes.

He hasn’t told Shige about that, and maybe he should. When it’s okay for him to speak again, maybe he will, but for now he holds the beautiful person in his arms who had just shared something so real and raw with him, and it wasn’t scary at all. Tegoshi’s glad he was here to help him through it.

Finally, Shige pulls back enough for Tegoshi to see his face, and it’s a mess. Tegoshi squeezes his hand and apologetically scoots him over enough to get up, dampening a washcloth in the bathroom before returning to wipe his tears. Shige winces initially at the contact, but he buys expensive linens with super soft material and after a few laps he’s pressing his face into the touch like Koyama's cat.

Tegoshi can’t help it—he pulls out his phone and types, “Funny, I’d still be doing this if we had actually had sex, just in a different area.”

It takes Shige a minute to focus enough to read the screen, but then he’s laughing and the tension Tegoshi hadn’t known he’d been holding this entire time just goes away. Shige slumps along his side, completely out of energy, and Tegoshi wraps an arm around him as he adds to his message: “Can I talk now?”

Shige nods, and Tegoshi launches into his story with no preamble. It’s still hard for him to vocalize his dark days, but after showing Tegoshi such a vulnerable side of himself, Shige needs to hear it. He doesn’t react at all from beginning to end, through all the difficult therapy appointments and the one time he called Koyama in the middle of the night because things got really bad. The only reason he’s better now is because of a cocktail of medication that had taken _years_ to perfect, and even then he’s not one hundred percent all the time. He still has his bad days, but he can usually pull himself out of it.

In those instances, the ongoing music in his head helps distract him from his unwelcome thoughts, and Tegoshi realizes in that moment that the gods know what they're doing after all.

He falls silent after he’s done, and after a few seconds of silence he thinks Shige might have fallen asleep. Then, in this voiceless whisper like the meltdown had taken his vocal chords with it, Shige says, “Everyone has their demons, and the more we fight them, the stronger we get. But now we don't have to fight them alone.”

“I love you,” Tegoshi feels out loud. “I know it’s hard to understand, but what just happened between us is more intimate than anything sexual.”

“I’m glad you feel that way, because I am not even thinking about that now,” Shige tells him in that airy voice. “I would like you to lie on top of me though. I like the pressure. It calms me. I have a weighted blanket, but it’s warm tonight. That’s why I opened the window.”

“I’ll do whatever you need,” Tegoshi says. “Just move me wherever you want me to go.”

Shige doesn’t hesitate before stretching out onto his back and guiding Tegoshi’s body on top of his. It’s strangely comfortable to rise up and down with Shige’s deepening breaths, and Tegoshi curls up like Shige were a human body pillow. Shige lifts his arms to wrap around Tegoshi’s upper back, holding him so tightly that Tegoshi’s not sure where he ends and Shige begins, and Tegoshi rests his head on Shige’s shoulder as the iPod shuffles to a classic Japanese love song.

This one Tegoshi does know the words to, and he feels them flowing through all of his veins as he sings from his heart.

*

For years, long before Tegoshi had ever known of him, Shige has bared his soul to the online world. The platforms have changed with the evolution of social media, but the content is the same. By sharing other bloggers’ posts and typing up his own, he has figured out himself better than any occupational therapy or behavioral analysis ever could.

Complete strangers all over the country know his routines, his sensory triggers, his coping methods, and his social struggles. They know that tags and inseams will have him scratching his skin raw while he’ll run his hands over corduroy pants and sequin pillows for hours. They know that he doesn’t really have any problems eating, but crunchy foods are too loud inside his head. They know his intricate writing process, which requires lighting at specific angles and advanced literary concepts Tegoshi doesn’t understand like iambic pentameter.

All of this has helped Tegoshi immensely. It’s one thing to get to know each other through messages and discuss the details of their relationship, but it’s quite another to keep asking him to explain the many different aspects of his autism. Shige’s happy to answer any question Tegoshi has, but Tegoshi feels like their time together can be better spent getting to know each other on a deeper level. It’s his place as the soulmate to do his research and become informed so that his questions are more advanced level than beginner.

In a way, this whole experience has been like a video game. He has to gather intel, overcome obstacles, and complete challenges to gain access to more rewards. The rewards come in the form of pleasant interactions, the kind where he says the right things and they understand each other without any frustration because Tegoshi had made the effort to be clear and think about how his words would be received.

“Anyone else would have given up on me by now,” Shige messages him after a big misunderstanding had left them both irritated for about twenty minutes. “Thank you for being patient with me.”

Tegoshi laughs out loud and instantly relays the compliment to Koyama, who replies, “On a list of fifty of your strengths, patience would not even be at the bottom.”

It’s hard to explain, but Tegoshi _enjoys_ putting in the work to make things between them flow well. It’s like coding—he’ll spend _hours_ typing all different kinds of commands, perfecting each letter and symbol before executing, and he always expects it to fail the first time, just so he can see where he went wrong and fix it.

And when that code finally runs properly, and Tegoshi watches the beautiful animation appear before his eyes and do _exactly_ what he wants it to do? It feels like finally beating the big boss at the end of a long journey. Only instead of being finished with this game, Tegoshi gets to _keep playing_. For _ever_.

So, when Shige misreads something he types, and he’s not physically there to use his voice to fix it right away, he’ll groan loudly and halfheartedly punch a pillow and even walk away for a few minutes, but he always, always comes back. He always, always takes the time to explain what he had meant and he always, always includes a reassuring statement that everything is okay and he still loves him.

Their first big argument is about meeting Tegoshi’s mom. Despite being a homebody, Tegoshi is very close with his mother and tries to visit her at least once a month. She has his other dog, Skull, and she could not be prouder of her stubborn, self-centered child for making it this long with someone who requires so much caution and forethought. She was perfectly happy to meet Shige on his own terms, in his own space, but Shige _blew up_ when Tegoshi had mentioned it to him and it took two days to find out why.

Autistic people not feeling emotion is a myth. They may not know how to _show_ it, or they lack the capacity to properly express it, but they definitely feel things. In this instance, Shige felt extremely guilty, he just didn’t know that’s what it was. It made him angry and avoidant, and Tegoshi didn’t put two and two together until Shige flat-out told him he didn’t want Tegoshi to make any extra effort for him if he was expected to do things in return.

“I’m not asking you to do this because you owe me anything,” Tegoshi says gently, his heart aching at how sharply Shige is rocking on the couch. He’d raced over right after work, not that he’d gotten much done with Shige’s accusation taking over his mind. “I thought offering to do it here would be better than taking you over there, but that felt threatening to you, didn’t it?”

Shige nods. The only reason Tegoshi is this calm is because Shige had actually popped out one of the earbuds upon his arrival, showing that he wanted to listen to what Tegoshi had to say. “A stranger...in my home,” Shige stutters.

“Of course,” Tegoshi says. “You haven’t even had Koyama or Massu over yet, have you? The thought of someone you don’t know penetrating your safe space is scary.”

Shige nods again, then lifts his head to direct narrowed, closed eyes at Tegoshi’s elbow. “I’m not good.”

“Type it out,” Tegoshi encourages him, but Shige shakes his head. Seems they’re both stubborn.

“You’re always so nice to me,” Shige tells him, his hands balling into fists by his sides. “And I won’t even do the one thing you ask of me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You won’t meet her _ever_ , or you won’t meet her in person?” Tegoshi asks, and Shige’s rocking slows down. “If you don’t _ever_ want to meet her, I will be very sad about that, but if it’s because you don’t know her yet, we can talk to her online and maybe video chat until she’s not a stranger anymore.”

“You shouldn’t be sad, you should be _mad_ ,” Shige growls, using a tone Tegoshi hasn’t heard before. “This is important to you, and I reacted selfishly like this. I know you weren’t trying to shove her onto me, but I made a big deal out of it anyway. I always do this!”

“Hey,” Tegoshi says, slowly reaching over to cover Shige’s hands with his, coaxing them out of their shaky fists.  “It’s okay to feel guilty. You’re not a bad person for being upset. But I need you to know that I am with you because I want to be. Not because we’re soulmates, even if that’s how we first got together. Plenty of people aren’t in romantic relationships with their soulmates. I am with you, because I like the person I am when I’m with you, even like this, even when it’s worse.”

Shige sniffles, and Tegoshi watches as his eyes become watery. “I wanna go to your place.”

“What?” Tegoshi replies, tilting his head in confusion. “Why?”

“So I can get used to it,” Shige says firmly. “And then your mother can visit us there.”

Tegoshi grins so hard that his face hurts, and he resists the urge to throw his arms around Shige with every iota of willpower in his body. “Okay, but don’t do it for me. Do it because you miss my dog.”

Shige’s laugh is obnoxious, more of a snort from his congestion, but it lightens Tegoshi’s life. This level in the game of life isn’t nearly over yet, but he has just made it through a super tough part of it.

“Let me Shige-proof my apartment first,” Tegoshi teases, and Shige snatches his hands back to shove him. “Hey! I don’t want the scratchy fabric of my couch to hurt you.”

“I am not a child, Yuuya,” Shige huffs.

“I know.” Tegoshi leans forward to push their foreheads together, and Shige instantly moves his head around for the textile stimulation. “You are a grown-ass adult, whom I would like to be very comfortable so we can do grown-ass adult things.”

“We can do those things _now_ ,” Shige points out.

Tegoshi scoffs. “You are literally crying on my face.”

Shige sighs, then jumps to his feet in one stride and disappears down the hall. Tegoshi hears the faucet running, then Shige returns with a slightly pink but dry face. He stares in Tegoshi’s general direction for a few seconds, then points toward where he had just come from.

“I’m not having sex with you like this,” Tegoshi tells him.

“ _Why_?” Shige demands, and Tegoshi hides a smile because it almost sounds like a whine. “It’s never gonna be the perfect time, you know. The mood isn’t gonna be right or however people say it. Something weird is always gonna happen to me when you’re around, because my stupid brain doesn’t know what to do with all of these _feelings_ I have for you and the only way it’ll be okay is if you get in my bed right now.”

Tegoshi inhales sharply as he abandons how distraught Shige looks in favor of the words he’s saying—forcefully, even. “I’ll lie with you,” he gives in, and Shige’s hands flap in the motion that Tegoshi has associated with positivity. “And we can see what happens.”

Shige seems to accept that, because he turns on his heel and heads down the hall, speed-walking a little. Tegoshi feels incredibly lost, because his body keeps thinking it shouldn’t be interested because _Shige_ ’s not interested when Shige’s not at all subtle about how interested he actually is. The cognitive dissonance swirls around in his head as he absently gets to his feet and follows, each step adding a little more tension to his already questioning morals.

All worry leaves him when he sees Shige curled up under the covers, looking to all the world like he’s just settling in to go to sleep. Tegoshi knows better, even if he doesn’t see the heat in Shige’s eyes that he’s come to associate with attraction. He’ll just have to get used to finding it elsewhere.

“It feels weird to wear my clothes in bed,” Shige mumbles, and Tegoshi lets his next smile show. “I was going to put on my pajamas, but that might be even weirder.”

“If that will make you comfortable, go ahead and change,” Tegoshi says as he slips in on the other side, a small moan escaping as the soft duvet and mattress makes him feel like he’s being enveloped by a giant marshmallow. “Oh, wow, this feels nice.”

“Or you could just undress me,” Shige says pointedly, and Tegoshi almost laughs as Shige scoots closer. “I like how the fabric feels when it’s sliding off my skin.”

 _Now_ Tegoshi feels a rush of heat coursing through him. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Tegoshi rolls onto his side and finds Shige there, face to face but still not meeting his eyes, and Tegoshi tests the waters by lifting a hand to Shige’s cheek, slowly so Shige can see it coming, and trailing fingertips down toward his neck.

The noise Shige makes is unabashed and beautiful, and it occurs to Tegoshi how touch-starved Shige is, hyposensitivity as he calls it. It has Tegoshi feeling mildly guilty for making such a big thing out of this, because inevitably it’s just another way for Tegoshi to help him feel good. The easiest way, probably.

“Kiss me,” Tegoshi breathes, and he is not at all prepared for the cyclone that hits him as Shige jumps to follow orders, literally as Tegoshi finds himself on his back with Shige licking his way into his mouth. It’s fast and hot and Tegoshi’s done trying to fight it, fingers rushing to unfasten the buttons of Shige’s shirt as requested. He takes his time pushing it down Shige’s shoulders, following the clothing with his fingers, and Shige’s moan is muffled by Tegoshi’s tongue as he shifts the rest of his weight over to lie on top of Tegoshi completely.

Tegoshi feels how hard he is and a moan of his own slips out, his own hips rocking automatically in search of the friction that feels an epic ton better with his soulmate. He could kick himself for waiting so long, because his entire body burns with arousal, and Shige’s could only be more intense. His palms splay all over the newly exposed skin, appreciating the muscles and contours of Shige’s chest and especially how Shige’s heart thumps wildly against his touch.

“You gonna make me do all the work?” Tegoshi teases when Shige harshly breaks their kiss, and Shige makes a distorted sound that doesn’t really say anything. “Are you okay?” Tegoshi adds in alarm.

Shige makes another noise, like he’s trying to talk and nothing’s coming out, and Tegoshi’s about to grab for his phone when Shige gives him a firm thrust, sending Tegoshi’s eyes rolling back into his head from the force. “More,” Shige gets out, and Tegoshi deduces that he’s perfectly fine and just overcome by all of the sensations, good ones for once.

Tegoshi’s hands drop to the waistband of Shige’s pants and Shige seems to come back to life, mouthing along Tegoshi’s neck and tugging at the hem of his shirt. Tegoshi’s torn between continued neck kisses or being rid of his shirt, electing for the latter with the logic that the former could return and access even more area.

They both grunt in frustration as they make the effort to get out of their clothes, but it’s worth it when they’re skin to skin and Shige’s dragging his blunt nails up and down the length of Tegoshi’s cock. For all of his rushing earlier, he’s sure intent on slowing down _now_ , and Tegoshi _loves_ it. He arches and moans out loud, thighs trembling as he hardens even more from the light touch, and the next brush of Shige’s lips along his collarbone has him jerking.

“I...” Shige starts, followed by a whimper when he can’t get out what he wants to say, but before Tegoshi can remember where he put his phone, Shige’s finger-spelling the kana for “want you” into Tegoshi’s belly and it feels just as good as if he’d written it on Tegoshi’s cock.

“You can have me,” Tegoshi tells him, his voice all air. “I like when you write on me. I wish we’d thought of that before.”

“Too much,” Shige gets out as he mouths along Tegoshi’s throat. “Won’t fit.”

Tegoshi chuckles, and Shige starts from the vibrations against his lips. “Oh, I think it'll fit.”

He had known Shige wouldn’t follow his train of thought, and even though the other man doesn’t make any indication that he’d heard Tegoshi at all, Tegoshi clarifies his dirty joke by reaching down to coil his fingers around Shige’s length. He expects another untimely laugh, but instead he gets this low groan that Tegoshi feels deep inside him, punctuated by the sharp thrust of Shige’s hips into his hand.

“Do you have lube?” Tegoshi asks, and Shige’s arm lifts to point toward the nightstand. It takes some twisting, but Tegoshi manages to reach far enough to retrieve the tube. “I’m okay with not using a condom, unless you want to.”

Shige mumbles some gibberish against his skin, and this time Tegoshi really does grab his phone and shove it into Shige’s hands. It takes Shige a second to focus, but manages to type with one hand, “I don’t have any. I like it better without. I have to get blood tests every year, and I haven’t been with anyone in a long time anyway. We should have probably talked about this before now.”

Tegoshi laughs. “We can’t be responsible all the time.” He takes the opportunity to guide Shige back into his mouth for a slow, deep kiss. “I’ve only been with Koyama and Massu for years now. We get tested together. I would _love_ to feel all of you inside me.”

The only reaction he gets to that is Shige rolling onto his side, struggling to open the tube with as disoriented as he is. Tegoshi doesn’t hesitate to lean over and help, holding the tube steady so that Shige can lather his fingers, and a brief flash of an idea has Tegoshi straddling his lap. It startles Shige enough to drop the tube completely and Tegoshi leans down to kiss his lips, effectively pulling the bottom one out of Shige’s teeth.

“Let’s do it this way,” Tegoshi suggests, and Shige stares blankly at his clavicle as he feels his way between Tegoshi’s legs. “If you need me to do it, I will. I can’t reach all the good spots, but you’ll be in there soon enough.”

His dirty talk is probably wasted on this one, but he’s not really putting that much thought into it. Shige doesn’t waste any time easing a finger inside, surprisingly slow and gentle. Sporadic jabs that were likely a loss of control clue Tegoshi in as to how much effort Shige’s actually making to hold back for his comfort, which is so unexpected and thoughtful that Tegoshi feels more than just physical stimulation.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Shige grunts. “Go deeper, make me sing.”

That one is fully comprehended by Shige, who quickens his pace now that he’s been told to and slips in a second finger. Tegoshi spreads his legs a little more, positioning himself so that Shige grazes the good spots, and for a terrifying second he thinks his moans might be too loud and hurt Shige’s brain, but the first one has Shige’s entire body trembling beneath him.

“Good noise?” Tegoshi asks, and Shige answers him in the form of a faster jab. Now he has three fingers in, and Tegoshi can’t talk anymore, finding irony in both of them robbed of coherent words from sensory overload. He’s still moaning, more shrill with each breath, and he makes it until his hips start snapping on their own before feeling around for the lube and slathering some onto Shige’s cock.

Shige’s moan is desperate, and Tegoshi’s on him the minute he pulls out his fingers. He sinks all the way down, revelling in the slow burn that only begins to quench the need throbbing within him, and Shige’s the one to thrust up first, both arms reaching out for Tegoshi to come closer.

He does, leaning down to press a kiss to Shige’s lips before they both gasp for air, the new angle hitting Tegoshi right where he wants it. Shige doesn’t seem to have any problem holding the rhythm from the bottom, and Tegoshi’s happy to ride while feeling more of Shige’s skin against his. Deep groans vibrate them both and leaves Tegoshi shuddering, taking him even higher as the pressure inside him accumulates to explosive levels.

“Will you make me come?” Tegoshi gasps out, pressing the words into Shige’s collarbone, and Shige responds by shoving a hand between them, wasting no time coiling his fingers around Tegoshi’s length and stroking him at the same speed as his thrusts. “Oh, oh fuck. So fast. _Shige_.”

Shige doesn’t stop, his own breaths growing harsher as he starts to falter in his actions. Tegoshi can’t think about anything but his impending release, brought closer and closer by Shige’s hand flying up and down his cock. This one has no concept of making it last and Tegoshi’s not at all mad at that. It's already hard enough for him to finish because of his meds, but he supposes this is just another way their soulmate connection matches up perfectly.

He cries out as his orgasm is pumped out of him, Shige continuing to pound into him until he falls still with a choked noise. Tegoshi feels _amazing_ , even when he carefully lifts off and feels Shige’s come still inside him. All he wants to do is crawl back into his marshmallow and enjoy this bliss for as long as it lasts, but he feels an overwhelming urge to check on Shige and make sure he’s okay, even if this was all his idea and he wasn’t even the one getting fucked.

Before Tegoshi can open his eyes though, Shige’s already hopped out of bed and strode completely naked across the hall to the bathroom, and Tegoshi smiles as he hears the shower start running. He’ll probably have to take one too, but he’ll get kicked out of bed when Shige inevitably changes the sheets anyway.

It’s all worth it when Tegoshi returns to the bedroom to find Shige in his pajamas, standing awkwardly by his freshly made bed like he hasn’t decided whether to get back into it or not.

“I know you have work in the morning, so it’s okay if you don’t want to sleep over,” he says clearly. “But I’d like to lie with you for a while before you leave.”

“I do have work in the morning,” Tegoshi realizes sadly, glancing toward his work clothes wrinkled on the floor and how he’ll never hear the end of it if he wears them into the office tomorrow. “When you come visit my place, you can sleep over?”

“I probably won’t sleep well the first time,” Shige tells him, swaying a little as he stands. “Maybe if we have sex, I will. I feel like I could sleep anywhere right now.”

“You’re speaking much more easily,” Tegoshi points out as he returns to his marshmallow, instantly joined by Shige who snuggles so closely that Tegoshi doesn’t want to leave, work reputation be damned.

“Sex is the most positive stimulus,” Shige says, letting out a little sigh before promptly passing out halfway on top of Tegoshi.

Tegoshi considers his options before he reaches for his phone and sets his alarm an hour earlier than normal. If nothing else proves how important Shige is to him, sacrificing his precious sleep definitely does.

*

Adding Koyama and Massu to Shige’s first visit to Tegoshi’s place is an awful idea, but Tegoshi’s the only one who thinks so. Shige’s the one who suggests it, purely so he won’t have to drive, and Koyama jumps at the opportunity to build their neighborly relationship.

“I would have picked you up, you know,” Tegoshi messages Shige when they’re on their way over. He’d already done everything in his power to make his apartment sensory-friendly, using Shige’s old blog posts as a checklist for what he can and cannot tolerate, and now all Tegoshi has to do is wait for them to arrive.

“Look at it this way,” Shige answers. “Both situations are going to be uncomfortable for me, so doesn’t it make more sense to combine them?”

Damn his logic. Tegoshi would rather Shige not be uncomfortable at all, but if Shige’s the one who wants to do this, there’s not much point in protesting. “Is Koyama chewing your ear off?”

“I have my headphones on, so I hope not,” Shige replies, and sure enough Tegoshi hears the faint music in the back of his mind. He hardly notices it anymore. “He’s a very good driver. I don’t usually do well on car rides, and I feel okay.”

Tegoshi starts to feel hopeful after that, but Shige makes a beeline for him the instant he opens the door. “Hello,” he says gently. “Are you okay?”

“Familiar,” Shige mutters, and Tegoshi nods as Koyama and Massu let themselves in.

“Emma-chan is here,” Tegoshi says, guiding Shige down to where the excited poodle is bouncing quietly at their feet. “She’s familiar too.”

Shige lowers his hand and jerks when Emma licks it, but Tegoshi can feel him relax. “Sorry. I’m trying.”

“It’s okay,” Tegoshi assures him. Slowly, he guides Shige over to the couch, where he’s draped a fuzzy blanket over the cushions. “Do you want something to drink?”

Shige nods, and out of nowhere a glass of water appears in front of him, followed by Koyama’s gentle smile. “Takahisa had wanted to drive, but I wouldn’t let him.”

“I have road rage,” Massu supplies. “Why is Yuuya wearing corduroy pants in the middle of summer?”

“So Shige will be comfortable,” Tegoshi explains, and as if to punctuate his statement, Shige instantly curls up against him and rubs the fabric above his knees.

“Or you just want him to touch you,” Koyama points out.

Tegoshi shrugs. “Why not both?”

They settle in for food and conversation, Massu showing off his own culinary prowess in the most action Tegoshi’s kitchen has seen since the last time they'd eaten here. Koyama focuses on Tegoshi and doesn’t prompt Shige to talk at all, which has the desired effect of keeping Shige calm and only a little overstimulated instead of overwhelmed and spiralling toward a meltdown.

It helps that Emma’s in his lap, enjoying some more rough petting while Tegoshi keeps one arm firmly around Shige’s shoulder. He’d bought a weighted lap cushion in case Shige needed more pressure, but he seems to be doing okay so far. Even when dinner is ready and they relocate to the table, Shige’s content enough to simply eat without any issues.

“I’m glad you like it,” Massu says with a bright grin as Shige inhales his pasta. “Yuuya gave me a list of your preferences and they weren’t difficult to work around at all.”

Shige lifts his hand to his chin and pushes it forward, which Tegoshi recognizes as the JSL sign for “thank you,” and Koyama lights up. Instead of squealing like usual, Koyama abandons his chopsticks to sign wildly while Shige watches his hands move with a rapt attention Tegoshi hasn’t seen from him before.

Then Shige drops his own chopsticks and signs back, just as fast and excitedly.

“Wait,” Tegoshi breaks the silence with his actual voice. “Shige knows sign language?”

Massu bursts out laughing. “This whole time...”

Koyama and Shige are entirely ignoring them, engrossed in their signed conversation that’s several years overdue. One of them must have made a joke because they both crack up, and Tegoshi smiles despite feeling incredibly left out because it’s the obnoxious laugh that Shige only makes when he feels good.

“Looks like it’s just you and me tonight,” Massu says to Tegoshi, looking entirely too amused, and Shige drops his hands mid-sign to fix his stare in their general direction.

“I don’t think he likes that suggestion,” Tegoshi says needlessly.

Shige signs something that has Koyama laughing. “He says, ‘I support your polyamory, but tonight Yuuya is with me’.”

“He’s all yours,” Massu says seriously to Shige. “I’ll have my hands full with this one and how long he’ll be gushing about _finally_ connecting with you.”

He doesn’t have to gesture toward Koyama, who may as well have hearts in his eyes with how he’s gazing at Shige. Tegoshi has a passing thought that their connection might become closer than expected, but he supposes he’ll worry about that if it happens. As long as it doesn’t cut into what little time he and Shige already spend together, he’s not concerned about his soulmate finding comfort with someone Tegoshi already trusts.

“Could you teach me how to sign?” Tegoshi asks Koyama with a pout.

Shige snaps to get his attention and slowly signs something that Tegoshi takes to mean, “ _I’ll_ teach you.”

Tegoshi makes the OK sign with one hand in response, and now that laugh is directed toward him.

After dinner, Koyama cleans up and the thought of helping doesn’t even cross Tegoshi’s mind, instead retrieving a package from the coat closet and thrusting it ceremoniously at Shige.

Shige peers at it, then glances toward Tegoshi’s giant TV, then meets Tegoshi’s eyes for the second time. He moves his mouth a few times, then chews on his bottom lip, and right when Tegoshi’s about to get his phone, Shige’s eyes well up and his hands flap happily.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Tegoshi tells him. “We’re probably watching anime.”

“Yay!” Koyama exclaims, though he has the foresight to keep his voice down.

Shige doesn’t look like he’s even listening to them, tearing into the box and setting up the wireless headphones that have already been paired to Tegoshi’s TV and are ready to use. The four of them pile on the couch with Shige at the end, holding both Emma and Tegoshi in his lap, and Tegoshi makes sure the bass is turned all the way down just in case this particular anime happens to bump.

Koyama settles back against Massu, tangling his legs with Tegoshi’s as he casts over an elated grin and turns his attention to the TV. Meanwhile, Tegoshi, who couldn’t care less about anime, revels in the embrace of his soulmate and looks forward to later when they sleep together in his own replication of Shige's marshmallow bed.

He’s also texting his mom, who has already enrolled them in a sign language course and expressed once again how proud she is of him.

Here with everyone he loves, including the soulmate he’s worked so hard to find _and_ keep, Tegoshi’s pretty damn proud of himself too.

Even if crappy anime themes are echoing in his head.


End file.
